


A Glint

by firnae



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Minor Violence, Near Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firnae/pseuds/firnae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Her head lolled to the side and her dark red hair spilled across her face. He could feel her heartbeat slowing. If they were to save her, they were going to have to move, and fast. The three rushed to leave the coast, Althea’s life force slowly draining with each step."</p>
<p>After a routine mission gone wrong, Althea Hawke is brought to the brink of death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Glint

            The sand on the Wounded Coast burned under Fenris’s bare feet. Down the path ahead of him, Anders was trying to persuade Althea Hawke to get a cat. Fenris was only half listening as the mage and the rogue bickered good-naturedly while Varric interrupted with sarcastic quips here and there.

            Something did not feel right.

            The four were returning from eliminating a group of slavers who had set up operations on the coast. And while the activity usually put Fenris in a less sour mood, he still could not get rid of the sense that something unpleasant was about to occur.

            The elf’s eyes darted around the path and up the sides of the cliffs, looking for something out of the ordinary.

            Nothing.

            All was quiet except for the musical laughter emanating from Althea as she replied to Anders.

            “Have you even seen any cats around? If anything, they would be drawn to those ridiculous feathers of yours. And yet, you’re still cat-less. How am I supposed to get one if you can’t?”

            Anders placed a hand to his heart in mock protest. “Why, I’m hurt! How dare you say such things…”

            Fenris turned his attention back to surveying the area. The feeling was growing stronger. They were being followed—he was sure of it. He slowed his pace and turned slightly to check behind them.

            “Hey, Broody, what’s the matter?” Varric asked.

            The group had all stopped by then and Althea strode up beside him, the humor gone from her face and replaced with a worried expression. Fenris continued to check for anything out of the ordinary, and was sequentially growing more agitated by the second.

            There. A glint of something on the cliff top.

            “ _Fasta vass_ ,” Fenris muttered as he drew the greatsword from his back.

            “What is—” Althea began, but was cut off.

            Everything happened so quickly.

            The arrow swiftly cut through the air and buried itself in Althea’s chest.

            Stunned, Althea looked down at the arrow in disbelief and turned to Fenris before collapsing. Shouts erupted as Anders rushed to Althea, who was now lying on the sandy path, blood seeping from the wound and staining the tunic beneath her rogue’s armor.

            Everything in Fenris’s vision turned red.

            _No_.

            Not Hawke.

            Not today.

            Not _ever_.

            The elf rushed up the cliff side with impossible speed, lyrium markings blazing. He reached the enemy archer before he could grab another arrow from his quiver. The archer whipped around at the sound of Fenris’s mad approach, unable to get in another breath before Fenris plunged his fist into the man’s chest and ripped out his heart with a sickening squelch. He watched the light leave the man’s eyes as his lifeless body hit the ground while the heart sat, lightly thumping in Fenris’s bloody hand.

            “Hawke, you can’t—shit.” Varric’s voice snapped Fenris out of his rage induced frenzy, and he looked down to where Althea lay. She was trying to pull the arrow out of her chest, the mage trying to prevent her from succeeding.

            Fenris dropped the now still heart and rushed down the cliff side.

            “Hawke, don’t,” Anders was saying. “It will make the bleeding worse.”

            “But it _burns_ ,” Althea said through gritted teeth as she successfully removed the arrow, despite Anders and Varric’s protests. She gasped as the tip of the arrow released itself from the wound. Blood started pooling around her much quicker now. Anders swore under his breath as he set to work, blue light emanating from the healer’s hands.

            Fenris did not know what to do. There was nothing he _could_ do. He just stood there, silent, as he watched the mage try to save Althea.

            Althea grew paler as she lost more and more blood before Anders finally managed to close the wound. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her breaths grew shallow.

            “We’re losing her!” Anders said, growing visibly frantic.

            Fenris finally spoke, his low voice seething with quiet rage. “What do you mean, _mage_? What did you do wrong?!” Fenris’s vision started to grow red again as he advanced on Anders. Varric stepped in front of the elf to prevent him from attacking the only healer they had.

            “Out of my way, dwarf,” Fenris spat.

            “Anders is no good dead. He’s Hawke’s only chance. You can kill him later if you still feel the need.”

            Fenris stopped advancing, fists clenched at his sides. “If she dies, mage…” He couldn’t finish the thought.

            Anders started pulling back the layers of Althea’s armor to get a better look at the wound. His eyes grew wide as he saw the black veins spreading from where the arrow hit. “Poison,” he said quietly.

            _Poison_.

            It took all the self-control Fenris had to keep himself together. If he could bring that archer back to life just to rip out his heart once more, he’d do it in an instant.

            “How bad is it?” Varric asked.

            “It’s spreading fast. We need to get her out of here now.”

            Fenris wasted no time. Quickly, but gently, he picked up Althea, who was now unconscious. Her head lolled to the side and her dark red hair spilled across her face. He could feel her heartbeat slowing. If they were to save her, they were going to have to move, and fast. The three rushed to leave the coast, Althea’s life force slowly draining with each step.

            “Don’t die on me, Hawke,” Fenris whispered. “Not today.”

* * *

 

            The poison had spread tremendously since they left the Wounded Coast. Tendrils of black veins were now visible on Althea’s upper body. They snaked and curved across her neck and down her right arm, which lay limp at her side.

            The estate was now silent, but upon their arrival, Fenris carrying the dying Champion, it had descended into utter chaos. All Fenris could recall were shouts, the weight of Althea being lifted from his arms, and somebody telling him to _calm down_. He had looked down to see his own hands shaking as the lyrium markings began to glow.

            He was in shock, but he was _furious_.

            Furious at the archer for letting go of a poisoned arrow.

            At Althea for always putting herself in dangerous situations.

            At himself for not checking to see if the slavers’ den was clear.

            It had now grown quiet and Fenris sat at Althea’s bedside, watching the slight rise and fall from her shallow breaths. He could hear the mage and someone else, Aveline it sounded like, talking just outside the door. Their low voices produced a murmur that barely penetrated his thoughts.

            Althea was dying.

            It was all his fault.

            He should have checked, he should have made sure none of the slavers has escaped, that the road was clear. He should have—

            “Are you saying you can’t save her?” Aveline’s voice broke Fenris out of his stupor.

            “I’ve never seen a poison like this.” The mage was speaking. “I’ve tried everything I can think of and it just keeps spreading. If we can’t find a cure soon…”

            Fenris took Althea’s hand and laced his fingers through hers, the veins of poison aligning with his lyrium tattoos.

            A third, lilting voice joined the conversation. “I could help.”

            “ _No_. We are not dealing with any demons!” Fenris could hear the venom in Anders’ voice as he spoke to Merrill.

            “You said that you tried everything, but you haven’t.”

            “No one is performing any blood magic!”

            “But this is _Hawke_ —”

            “Which is exactly why—”

            “STOP IT. The both of you,” Aveline interjected. “Arguing over this will not help Hawke…”

            Fenris stopped listening and closed his eyes. Just the mere thought of losing her… Fenris always thought that nothing could ever surpass the pain of the ritual Danarius put him through.

            He was wrong.

            The bickering continued outside the door a while longer before it finally quieted down. Fenris had not moved from his spot at Althea’s side, fingers still laced with hers.

            No cure.

            The overheard conversation replayed in his mind. There was no way to save her. The only other choice they had was blood magic.

            _Blood magic_.

            The mere thought of it caused Fenris’s lyrium to flash for a second before he reined it in. Using blood magic to save Althea went against everything he believed. But losing her, knowing there could have been a chance to remove the poison that was killing her? Having to live with that would kill Fenris before the lyrium poisoning his own body would.

            The door to the bedroom slowly creaked open, and the soft patter of bare feet sounded on the floor.

            “Fenris,” Merrill said, “I am so, so sorry.”

            Fenris did not respond. Instead, he just sat there, absent mindedly tracing his thumb on the back of Althea’s hand. It was losing warmth.

            Merrill spoke again. “I wish I could… they told me…” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I can try to stop the poison, but only through blood magic. I’m sorry.”

            Fenris continued to stare at Althea in silence.

            Merrill turned to face the door. “I’ll just go since no one—”

            “Do it.”

            Fenris finally raised his head to face Merrill, eyes pleading.

            “Do it,” he said again. “Save her.”

* * *

 

            Fenris remained at Althea’s side, never letting go of her hand.

            Not changing his mind as Merrill gently closed the door, leaving the others oblivious to what was about to occur.

            Not leaving as Merrill opened a vein, magic spilling out in rivets.

            Not letting go as the black veins slowly dissipated from all over Althea’s body.

            Not looking away as her color returned and her breathing became easier.

            Fenris stayed there as Merrill left and the room grew quiet once more. The ritual had worked, but he was still worried. He could not relax until he knew with certainty that Althea would once again open her eyes.

            Hours passed and Fenris began to doze off when he felt Althea’s fingers twitch. He immediately snapped out of his exhaustion to see two grey eyes flutter open.

            “Hello,” Althea managed to croak out, voice hoarse from disuse.

            Fenris visibly relaxed. She was fine. She was alive. She was _here_.

            Althea gave him a small smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

            Fenris leaned forward to place a hand on her face.

            Alive.

            Real.

            _Here_.

            “I almost lost you,” he whispered.

            “But you didn’t.”

            Fenris’s mouth curved up in a lopsided smile. “I didn’t.”

            Softly, Fenris brushed Althea’s messy hair away from her forehead. He sat there for a moment, just looking at her, memorizing every inch of her face. After what happened, he never wanted to forget.

            “Promise me you’ll never do that again,” he finally said.  Althea smiled and took his hand, pulling herself up slightly to place her forehead against his. Fenris closed his eyes and soaked in the feel of her, the smell, the inescapable flush of heat.

            Alive.

            Here.

            “ _I promise_.”


End file.
